


Tension

by pseudofaux



Category: Samurai Love Ballad (Video Game), Samurai Love Ballad: PARTY, 天下統一恋の乱 | Sakura Amidst Chaos (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Paranoia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 15:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11831919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudofaux/pseuds/pseudofaux
Summary: Harmless kindness infuriates and confuses Tokugawa Ieyasu, because harmless kindness doesn't exist in his world.





	Tension

It had been a taxing day, but it was, blessedly, almost over. Not over yet, though. He surveyed a map on a low table, calculating. Would it be worth it to attempt to build a bridge at the narrow point of the river soon and risk weather upsetting the project, or wiser to leave it until spring? He'd told Sakai and Sakakibara to leave him a half hour before, when their buzzing on the problem had finally irritated him to the point of distraction. And he'd had solitude and peace since then. His tension remained, but at least it wasn’t exacerbated by the presence of others. Still, he was tired. And hungry. And his brow was so deeply furrowed he could feel it. 

As he had earlier demanded, **she** brought his dinner to his room and set down the tray. That was acceptable, if intrusive. What was unacceptable, and shockingly intrusive, was her coming closer to him. Kneeling at the other side of the table. Leaning over it towards him. He raised his head from the map, incredulous and furious, preparing to tear into her for this impudent breach of protocol. He fixed her with a glare. It was as easy to glare now as it was to breathe, to smile when he had to, to pull a bowstring, to grind things to powder. His experience made these things practically effortless.

"Ieyasu-sama," she breathed, as if she was preparing to say something soothing. She touched her small, warm fingertips to his brow and then slid her palm to the side of his face, smiling all the while. Everything about the gesture and her face and her posture was gentle, loving, patient, kind, familiar. But things that seemed gentle, loving, patient, and kind were traps of the worst sort. Discomfort bordering on terror-- _what threat was she, that he had not even recognized her as a threat until now?_ \--seized him, sharp and frigid. His eyebrows shot up and his eyes darted from her wrist to her face. The rest of his body went stiff. He felt brittle. She stayed as she was, warm and gentle. That little smile widened as their eyes stayed connected. Damn her. 

He felt the discomfort give way to a tiny slice of fear. _What was the trick in this? What was she? What was she trying to do, and what was she trying to take from him?_

She still didn't move. He saw her smile, felt her warmth, felt her welcome. He felt. He hated her for involving him in this farce of her care. He pulled placidity over his features and told himself not to dart his eyes again, to look beyond her gentle expression and directly into her stupid scheming eyes. And cow her, dammit. He was no one's hostage now. Power in this place, in all of Mikawa, belonged to him.

When he knew he could speak evenly (a beat later, but too long, too long, _weakness was an opening and he'd let her see so now he had to stop this **immediately**_ ), he hissed in a voice that promised pain, "You have forgotten yourself, kitchen wench."

Her eyes opened wider, and her smile fell. She didn't quite frown. Then her eyes relaxed and her head tilted to the side. She continued to look into his eyes, her expression now curious. Still gentle. Her eyes were dark, deep, and soft. They weren't insistent. 

_A ruse._

They didn’t look threatening.

_Nothing ever did until it was._

What was her game? She looked at him like one might look at an injured bird, full of patient concern. This was intolerable. He'd had enough of her gentleness. 

He raised his own hand and encircled her wrist, none too gently. He could feel the rapid staccato of her pulse. But she did not make any attempt to move her hand from his cheek. He didn't feel her fingers so much as tense. She had the gall to turn up a side of her mouth in a smile even gentler than the one before. Did she think he was a fool, did not know a threat for what it was?

He consciously narrowed his eyes, set his mouth into a firm line, and told himself he was Lord, she had dangerously underestimated his mind, and she would pay for it when the time came that she was fool enough to think he had underestimated her. "You are not fit to be here or to touch me. Get. Out." he gritted, and he jerked her hand away. 

Finally, she looked surprised. But still not ashamed. What was _wrong_ with this stupid woman? Did she have no self-preservation instinct? Did she think she was safe? He could have her killed. He knew he could do it. She should have known it, too. Had Sakai given her no impression of their disparity? If she was smart enough to have been able to infiltrate his household, she should have known this was the wrong approach.

He kept his eyes narrowed. He put more power and hate into his gaze.

In response her eyebrows drew together, as if concerned. And then, finally, she wilted. He almost closed his eyes in relief but managed to just narrow them to slits before he did anything so foolish as give himself away. But the wench didn't move. She was still leaning toward him, even as she looked like she wanted to withdraw, finally, from his person. He wanted to raise his brows at her audacity and berate her into a state of terror. A thought skittered across his mind: if he raised his hand as though he was going to strike her, would she finally move?

Ah. 

He realized the problem precisely as she began to name it. Her voice was soft but unwavering. 

"Ieyasu-sama. I cannot get out if you are holding me here."

Dread exploded in his gut. _Stupid. Another opening._ He could not help himself from turning his head to look at his hand... still wrapped around her wrist. Pitpitpitpat, he could feel. That was her pulse, and his own traitorously rapid heartbeat in his ears at the same time. He tried to separate the sensation of feeling her pulse from hearing his own. Which was faster? _Who was winning?_ Her skin grew warmer under his fingers. When he became aware that he was staring at their hands he sneered and all but threw her arm away from himself. 

She immediately brought her hands and forehead to the tatami. "Good night, Ieyasu-sama," she said quietly. She left without so much as a gentle glance, thank the gods. His fear was lessening by the second. His tension was not. 

After he heard her footsteps fade, he relaxed his shoulders. His hands he clenched into fists. The strength of his blood pulsing into his fingers intensified. 

_**What** was her game? _

He didn't look at the food, or the map, for the rest of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written in quite a while but poor, broken, ever-crabby Ieyasu is tooooooooo delicious to resist. I have not played his route in SLBP yet, so I may have made mistakes with names or the time of year MC enters his household (apologies if this is the case!), and I have definitely taken liberties. I really enjoy how other writers have captured his attitude and experience and I wanted to try to do that with what I know of him. But! It is admittedly all second-hand. 
> 
> I don't think someone held hostage for so long would ever be able to trust another person's kindness to be well-intentioned or nonthreatening. It's very sad. I think Ieyasu would probably be constantly stressed from trying to always be a step ahead, and he'd often behave rudely as a result. There's no excuse for him, but I think he needs hugs. He'd probably threaten me for thinking so. :)


End file.
